


Acquiescence

by tattedmariposa



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-20
Updated: 2008-01-20
Packaged: 2017-12-07 00:24:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/741943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tattedmariposa/pseuds/tattedmariposa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He didn't have to think twice about it.  (Alternatively - "Ike and Soren have a sloppy quickie before a meeting."  But that doesn't sound as classy, does it.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Acquiescence

When Ike approached Soren during the lunch break and placed a hand on his shoulder, leaning down to quietly suggest they should use the free time to get the briefing out of the way, Soren didn't have to think twice about it. But outwardly, he still made a point of glaring at his alloted portion of Mist's “Magical Meatloaf” before agreeing.

He made himself push aside memories of the past five days - of the nearly constant chaos throughout camp, of counting supplies until the early hours of the morning and falling asleep over paperwork instead of where he'd come to think he should be - as he followed Ike to the almost-closet that sufficed as a staff room. By the time he shut the door behind them and handed Ike a neat stack of reports, his thoughts were focused solely on business.

...Or so he thought. In spite of Soren's efforts to steel his thoughts in a practical direction, frustration had taken its toll on his will and it didn't take long at all (eight minutes or so – not bad, but not their best either) for said briefing to devolve into tense glances. And when those were soon followed by deep needy kisses and soft touches mismatched with calloused hands, Soren didn't protest as much as he usually would. 

He'd also pushed aside the fact that he always ended up giving in anyway.

Even with warm hands making quick work of his robes and the cool stone wall at his back, Soren was vaguely aware, somewhere in the back of his clouded mind, that he should have been trying to maintain some semblance of professionalism. He chose to ignore that his fingers were mindlessly prying at Ike's shirt. At some point between searing breaths ghosting across the side of his neck and a wet velvet tongue reaffirming the contour of his ear, he managed to say (more air than words, really), “The meeting.” 

That same part of his mind hated the way he had to fight for control of his voice. But the rest, caught in the moment and intoxicated by overstimulated nerves, never seemed to care.

“We have some time,” Ike replied easily, the reverberations of his words humming pleasantly along Soren's skin. He sounded surprisingly relaxed for someone so breathless only seconds before.

A number of responses played in Soren's head (it was highly irresponsible, they'd surely be late, someone could very well be looking for the two of them already). He said nothing, trying to hear what was left of the rational side of his brain having it out with what he wanted. The sensation of muscle rippling in layers under skin, which Soren had long since decided he rather liked, was giving desire an unfair advantage, but nevertheless he left his hands where they were.

“And it _has_ been a week...” Soren recognized that tone immediately. It was the same one Ike used when attempting to convince him that filing paperwork could wait until the morning, or that sleep was more important than recording how many swords needed to be replaced after the last skirmish.

But it hadn't been a week – not quite, he thought, although his body couldn't tell (and didn't care to know) if it had been five years or five minutes.

Taking the lack of a response as a sign of reluctance, Ike tightened his grasp and roughly drove their bodies flush against each other. Soren gasped sharply, not quite succeeding at biting back a moan at the sudden friction. With one hand possessively splayed across the mage's hip and the other gently tucking aside excesses of long dark hair, Ike whispered to Soren as though they weren't the only ones in the room, with a voice turned dark and desperate in a way that Soren was certain he'd never heard Ike speak outside of a situation like the one they were in. 

“Soren... please.”

The words coursed through him instantly, flowing hot and cold through his veins and his nerves in a rapid and maddening alteration, and Soren answered before his mind had the opportunity to catch up with the words forming on his lips of their own volition. 

“Make it quick.”

And he could feel, rather than see, the victorious smirk smudged against his half-bare shoulder. But Soren reasoned that he hadn't given into what Ike wanted; not really. It wasn't giving in if they wanted the same thing.

Ike wasted no time yanking at the laces on Soren's pants, but his hands were clumsy, what with his attention divided by biting a collarbone and nails lightly scraping his back in return. “I think-” he murmured against Soren's mouth in between kisses, “...I liked it better when you didn't wear these.” He pulled back somewhat reluctantly, but leaned in for one more quick kiss before kneeling among their discarded outer layers of clothing and a pair of belts, leaving Soren feeling exposed for the first time that afternoon. 

Soren watched from above, lifting his right foot and then his left to allow his boots to be removed. His eyes fluttered shut and half of his delicate fingers instinctively wound their way into a mess of blue locks when Ike reached for the laces once again; this time, temporarily freed of distractions, working both effectively and quickly. He arched his back away from the wall at the proper time and listened to the soft crumple of fabric as his pants were tossed aside. 

Dressed in nothing but an undershirt now (and even that was carelessly thrown open and threatening to slide off of one of his shoulders) Soren waited for Ike to stand, trying his best to repress the urge to shiver as the air chilled newly bared skin. His body went taut at the sensation of a warm sigh somewhere around his hipbone, soon accompanied by a teasing, almost tentative lick and a series of soft sloppy kisses from his stomach to his neck. 

He relaxed into the little touches, which in turn elicited a number of short but pleased noises, and felt completely at ease as familiar weight pressed him back against the wall - that is, until he felt fingertips brushing against his lips. His tongue flicked over them, just barely tasting, before he parted his lips and more boldly took two into his mouth. 

It was initially intended to be a pragmatic motion, but Soren didn't realize how long he'd had his eyes closed until they opened again, and he was struck by the darkened blue eyes fixed upon his mouth like magnets, watching, completely enthralled. He sucked harder, all the while gently twisting and caressing with a tongue more accustomed to being sharp than giving and staring into eyes that widened and flashed slightly feral, silently feeding off of Ike's responses to the blatant implication of his actions.

After moving his fingers in and out of Soren's mouth a few times in succession, Ike abruptly withdrew his hand with a low groan. Both of them were nearly panting, just slightly out of sync with one another, and with nothing between them now, red and blue eyes locked together, Soren was suddenly very aware of how hard they both were. Saliva-slicked fingers drove their way between the wall and his back, rapidly tracing downwards along Soren's spine before both were impatiently pushed inside him at once. 

And maybe it really had been too long, or they were moving too fast, judging by the sting that he didn't recall being there last time. The feeling intensified as they twisted a little sooner than they should have. It hurt, but the rush of pleasure that accompanied the pain and Ike's mouth on his own provided wonderful distractions. Most importantly, Soren <i>wanted</i> it, so he pushed back while shamelessly grinding forward at the same time. The stinging began to fade as he knew it would and he hoped that Ike would want to move along quickly so that he wouldn't have to ask. He moved faster, his skin scraping against the coarse fabric of Ike's pants, trying to use his body to convey what he wouldn't speak.

Pausing only to ready himself, Ike firmly grasped the underside of Soren's thighs, using the wall as support to hold him up. Soren wrapped an arm around his neck and both legs around his waist; not too tightly, as he knew very well that he could trust Ike's strength. His shirt rode up slightly and the stone wall that held him in place was cold against his flushed and sweat-dampened skin.

As the little space that remained between the two of them was closed once more, Soren gasped in pain, forcing himself to stop just short of a whimper, and turned to the side in a vain attempt to hide the wince so clearly written across his features. Ike wasn't able to touch Soren with his hands because of their position, so he leaned forward instead, moving as little as possible, to touch the side of his face to Soren's - a gesture that seemed almost inappropriately tender given the state they were in. “We can stop, if you want,” he said into some loose black strands, though his voice betrayed barely-controlled impulse.

“No. It's fine,” Soren managed through gritted teeth. He took the opportunity to bury his face in Ike's shoulder.

“Soren, if I'm hurting you-”

“Ike, no. I...” He turned again, but not away this time, his voice going softer and quiet. “I want to.”

Soren used what little leverage he had to tighten his hold on Ike, as if it was possible to be any closer than they already were, and they moved together, giving and taking and building a symbiotic rhythm. It was still too fast and too rough, and Soren was certain he'd have bruises on his lower back later that night. But he gave in, and didn't try to turn away or hide again, exposing both his pain and desire with a sort of abandon he rarely allowed himself to show. 

They looked each other in the eyes, when they weren't laying kisses upon whatever and wherever they could reach and pressing nonsensical sounds in hushed tones against each other's skin. It wasn't long (because for the two of them, afflicted by youth and lust, five days may as well have been an eternity) before Soren could barely form a single coherent thought if he'd wanted to – he felt as though he might have forgotten his own name if Ike didn't remind him by breathing it into his ear. And Soren couldn't help but marvel, for just a split second, at how, even though he'd long since lost count of the times it had happened, he still secretly adored the way his name sounded in those final moments.

-

“Do I look presentable?” Soren wound his last sash around his waist and quickly knotted it.

“'Presentable?' You look-” Ike stopped short and tilted his head down to place a soft kiss on the mage's lips. “...Maybe you're asking the wrong person.”

Soren felt blood lightly coloring his pale face, and he retorted, “While I appreciate the sentiment, I wanted to know if I look like I've just had sex against a wall, not if you would like to do it again.” 

“I wouldn't be opposed to it...” Soren glared, but Ike only laughed and reached out to smooth Soren's hair. It was a bit more wayward than usual, but nothing too unseemly. He leaned back to take a better look, and nodded. “You'll do now.”

“I can fix my own hair.” Soren frowned, raising his hands to readjust it.

Ike shrugged. “I know. But it gives me an excuse to touch you.” He pulled one glove back on while scanning the floor for its pair.

“Dragging me here on the pretense of a briefing wasn't enough of an excuse?” Despite the sharpness of his words, Soren couldn't help but allow a slight smile to curve his mouth. 

“And you would have rather stayed at lunch?” 

He ignored both Ike's question and his knowing smirk. There was no reason, he thought, to respond to a question to which they both knew the answer. They knew each other too well for that. “We never finished reviewing the reports.”

“I'll read them later tonight, I promise.” Ike finally found his other glove, partially trapped beneath the heel of Soren's foot, who seemed to realize its location at the same time and handed it back. “Speaking of which, would you join me? It always goes faster when you're there.”

Soren knew that wasn't entirely true. It did go faster when they were together, yes – but that was only because they were more eager to finish. Still, instead of pointing out the fallacy, he nodded. “Yes, I suppose it would be better that way.”

“Thank you, Soren.” Ike smiled and briefly brushed the side of Soren's face with the back of his hand before turning to the door. “Come on, let's go.”

Soren followed wordlessly, admitting only to himself as he walked close behind that he was quite pleased to do so.


End file.
